TMHI: Gossip of Your Downfall
by Paranoid Crack Abuser
Summary: Because in the end, after everything, he just couldn't help it. He touched her and wanted another, and those blue eyes would spread the gossip of his downfall.


_**Disclaimer: Do not own Inuyasha.**_

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><p><strong>Translucent Mendacity and the Hypocrisy within the Influence<strong>

_Gossip of Your Downfall_

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><p>Cruelty was just another definition for what really is, and what no one wants. In succumb to life does it blend, and he where he sought on thing he desired another. Yet, in every way where he was his own contradiction, hypocrisy followed, shadowing a leer that mocked him in accord to the black heart that was every bit human.<p>

And the sweet girl held him acceptance in which he could not receive, and as he quenched his thirst within the endless purity of her bodice, a feral scream unidentifiable from which lung, and although it was he coiling her pain and playing the cards in her forever-lasting demise, she was the one who held that damnable, satisfactory grin, her eyes lighting with power.

Those eyes of blue… the contradiction to the longing in his black, black core, were the firm line of separation… and they mocked him, laughed at him, in their wake.

As she trailed beautiful kisses along the white flesh of his ribs, she mumbled, "It will never be enough."

In this chamber where he held the reincarnation, he could seek concurrence, for where the long-dead priestess hated, this one loved.

Interesting little thing, she became. The long years under the dark poison of his castle and the infinite solitary and darkness she had died under gave way to the phoenix rising from its ashes, and those eyes—sinful, dark, knowing, knowing, knowing eyes, invading and seeing and she sought—watched the world in ways that he couldn't follow, her mind becoming even more twisted and corrupt than his.

And still she was pure because she could not hate.

She moaned that name—that _**blasted**_ name, "Ohh, poor Naraku…"

Her wet lips rose from the curve of his abdomen, working a dooming path as she stopped at his heart.

"You come to me for the gratification I grant you, but it will never be enough." Her words always come soft and hot, like fresh liquid steel scorching to its demise, yet cooled by the unidentifiable ice too opaque and complex to comprehend. Sly and the golden tongue, beautiful and dangerous—the perfect amalgamation to spread rumors of men's downfall.

"But it can't satisfy you, because where the silver hanyou could not…" he felt her unhidden smile against his skin, spreading from the crux electrifying chills screeching warnings, the atmosphere sinking into a very dangerous level, and he knew-oh how he knew-but it was the calling she sent, the murderous beckoning that convened his ruin. "…you could."

But it was that black, black heart—where no matter he ran it ate at him and refused to leave him and no matter how he killed it didn't die.

His eternal curse—the heart and the scar.

Peering eyes and she never touched, whether warred from it or a forgotten demand; she didn't touch.

"This burdening human heart can differentiate between me and my incarnation." She purred, curling lavishly against him, "and that is where you flaw."

"How…?" He humored her, and she smiled coyly at him, leaning her arms against his chest to face him. Trailing a lone finger along the lean muscles of his chest, she continued,

"You come to me for the gratification I grant you… but your heart can distinguish between Kikyo and me, therefore, my acceptance is not satisfactory." She turned on her back, stretching against him. It was amazing, how morphed and twisted she became. How was it that she was using the hateful thoughts he once tortured her with against him? Turning it on him, making it into her own little game. A _very_ dangerous vixen, she was. "And your flaw is that you come to me when your heart yearns for her."

She finished with a pleased smile, the fitting grin growing as a fresh slab of blood splattered the floor.

Eyes alight, she watched as he adorned his attire, slipping his taut arms through the armholes.

"Your flaw, though, saves you from your downfall." Glinting through half-lidded eyes, she thrilled herself in these games.

He bruised her lips with his own, crushing her already fragile frame against the harsh wood of the palace.

Lifting his face, his eyes bright with power, he spoke, soft and perilous. "I won, there is no downfall."

"Naraku…" Her arms snaked around his neck, pulling him to her, her tantalizing scent and her treacherous voice exciting things that only could. "You're smarter than that—there is always a downfall."

She brushed away the flaps of his _konôshi__[1],_ sinking herself into his throbbing flesh with a muffled groan, "Your awaited demise, milord Naraku…"

He thrust viciously, sinking claws and leaking toxins. "…is that you can never have her."

A roar hybrid into ecstasy and defiance, more splashes on the walls, the floors, but pain was nothing that could touch her anymore, and no mind was given—her eyes glowing hauntingly, watching, watching, watching, knowing, seeing…

"I have her." Onigumo had spoken now, growling with malice as he tore mercilessly, no gentleness against her barely sustaining body with too much spilt blood and shattered bones and broken skin.

"Ah-! No-o… no, you don't, and you never will." She managed between shaky breaths. "Because although you m-might have her, locked somewhere deep within these chambered walls… you… will _**never**_ have her."

"How?" Roars and slashes, nothing stopped her.

"B-because…" She struggled under collapsing lungs, but that smile never left. No, it never left. "Because des-despite all, you love her, _Onigumo_, and no matter what, no matter even if you held her with you right now, you would not have her, because all your love could not have back, and your demise is in that yearn."

She smiled absolutely beautifully as she spoke his downfall.

"Because you want her to love you back."

Blue eyes only smiled as the door slid shut, the wood splintering in cracks as she breathed heavily in a corner, no longer able to move, yet happier than ever. She knew, she knew all too much and all too well—of the end and the beginning and forever.

His demise... pride in her initiation, and sighing deeply as she closed her eyes to sleep, the miasma in the air peeling her skin and burning her wounds, she waited.

"You… lose." She recited, "and it's always the heart. Gossip on your downfall has spread, Onigumo. Love will make you fall."

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><p><em>[1]:<em>_The konôshi is a type of full-length over-robe that acted as leisure wear for the aristocratic class. The robe is consisted of a long body that is fastened to the sleeves only at the back of the shoulders. The robe has a skirt-like bottom._

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><p>This is a planning three-part story, and the second is in progress. Read for entertainment, but feedback is always appreciated ;D<p>

~Paranoid Crack Abuser


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